Brotherly Love
by Pippins Halfling
Summary: Jack apparently has a long lost sister... Rated T for drug use
1. Chapter 1

Brotherly Love: Part 1

Screams corrupted the air. Smoke piled in thick screens. Fire spurted in random places; sometimes, not so random, but in big bursts like the engine over there. People ran everywhere, stepping over the dead bodies lying on the ground. And, here I am, observing this slightly farther down the beach than anyone else bothered to go. A moment ago, I had a huge shard of metal gouged in my hand. Naturally, I pulled it out. It bled like crazy, and I had to find some cloth to bandage it.

For such a tragedy, I feel strangely calm. Actually, I'm waiting for my brain to realize what I've gone through. Once it hits me, I'll scream as loud as the blonde.

Then, I saw him. Without him, I wouldn't be here. He rushed around looking heroic in his suit and tie. Well, he had a tie, but he used it to bandage a guy's leg. Sometimes, I can't even bare to think his name because when I do, I think about his father and all the pain he caused. The kind of hurt that never goes away and never sleeps. But, I can't dislike him for what his father did. Heck, I can't even dislike his father. He's also the reason why I'm here.

When everything seemed to calm down as much as it could, I went back to the wreckage. Coming closer, I saw the broken bits of soul torn everywhere. Misery filled their empty shells with a touch of hope. Hope had come only when someone pointed out that we were bound to be rescued sooner or later, but misery mainly consumed us. In this accident, everyone had lost something. No one won.

_The doctor came out of the ER. I didn't wait to hear my fears confirmed as I buried my face in my hands, sobbing piteously. _

_My mom sat there beside me, giving me a one-armed hug. She didn't cry. She was never one to cry, but she did sit there with a disbelieving look. We all knew he had to die sometime, but we never expected him to die so soon._

_Driving home was a nightmare. Our car had only us to attend to since my siblings were sleeping over at friends' houses. Mom wanted to "protect" them from dad's illness, so they didn't know anything. Of course, she allowed me to know. Both of them always considered me grown-up. I'm usually in on the secrets._

_Once home, I locked myself in my big, empty room. Immediately, the crying started. My dad was finally gone, leaving me alone with my mother and my siblings in this house that echoes every noise in the hallways. This house where family portraits stared coldly from the walls, and the mirrors that watched you until you see your imperfections._

_A knock sounded from the door, but I wasn't willing to answer it as I sobbed deeper into my pillow. However, the knocking continued until I realized that whoever was knocking wasn't going to stop. Gloomily, I shouted, "What!"_

"_Darling, let me come in. I want to talk with you."_

_Great. My mother._

"_No. I don't feel like it," I replied._

"_I think it's important, sweetheart," she paused to sigh before she continued. "It's about your father."_

_More tears swelled up in my eyes, and I closed them hard. Slowly, I walked across the fluffy pink carpet to unlock the door. As expected, she quickly paraded through and sat on my bed. Then, she waited until I, also, sat on the bed._

_She watched me for a moment, and I glared at her. She wanted to talk to me; yet, no words came out of her mouth. Upon seeing my angry look, she started to talk._

"_I thought since you were already upset that it'd be good to give you all the bad news at once and get your pain over with instead of giving it to you piece by piece." She said in a cautious tone that made me angry, but I nodded for her to go on because once she tells me what she wants, she'll go away._

"_Paul Greene—"_

"_Dad," I said. She normally doesn't mention dad by his actual name._

"_Ye-es," she continued. Again, she sighed. "He's not… You see, about eighteen years ago, I suspected your dad of being unfaithful to me. I didn't bother to investigate. I went on to have my own affair. Paul wasn't your dad."_

"_What proof do you have that he wasn't my father?" I asked, avoiding her eyes._

"_We had a DNA test a few weeks after you were born. Paul didn't know, obviously. He assumed that he was the father."_

_I sat in silent shock as I felt everything I had known come crashing down around me. Shaking, I stood up. "Get out," I said in a harsh whisper._

"_Liv…"_

"_OUT!" _

Nightfall came, and our valiant doctor hadn't finished with all his "patients," yet. He helped people who needed him most. People with minor cuts and injuries would see him later for obvious reasons.

The big guy spotted me and walked my way, and I tried to make myself inconspicuous. But, he really did see me, and he really was walking towards me. "Hey… Do you want chicken or lasagna?" he asked.

"What?" I asked.

"Airplane food. Y'know. To eat…"

"Oh… Um… I guess I'll have chicken," I answered.

Then, from a crate he apparently found, he pulled out a tray of airplane food. "Chicken's pretty good," he said. "Considering it's, well, airplane food." He preceded to hand it to me, and sarcastically said, "Bon appetite."

"Thanks," I said and began peeling the foil on top of the tray. The chicken was cold, as expected, and I just kind of picked at it, my hunger dissolving the more I tried to enjoy it. Finally, I decided it was hopeless and set it aside.

Soon enough, my body told me I needed to sleep. I walked around all the people that lied on the ground, trying to find an empty space not too far off from the crowd. For the second time that day, I found myself farther down the beach then anyone had wanted to go. Still, I wasn't far enough in case something horrible happened.

Minutes later, I had made a pile of sand and rested my head on it while I lay down. Sleep eventually came to me, but it took awhile.

"_Before I consent to give you this information, I need to know how old you are."_

_"I've been eighteen since last Monday."_

_"Can I see your ID?" he asked._

_"Yeah. Sure," I said, reaching into my black purse. Once out, I slid it across the table._

_"Okay then. Everything seems to be in order. Here's the file containing everything anyone would want to know about this Christian Shephard. Or, shall I say, Dr. Shephard?"_

_Eagerly, I grabbed the file out of his hands, and since that moment, I hadn't heeded to any word Marx said._

_Then, I found out my biological father was dead._

"Wow, that cut looks nasty."

Startled, I looked up to see my speaker who was apparently watching me wash my gash, not cut. "It's not so bad," I said. Not so bad? Yeah, right.

"Is it supposed to be yellow like that?" he asked.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

"No… Just thought I'd mention that you should have Jack check it out."

"I'm fine."

"I'm Hurley, by the way."

"Livien."

"Nice to meet you, Livien… You really should have Jack check that out."

Again, I told him I was fine. After that, he left to go find some fruit and asked if I'd like any. Coldly, I told him "no thanks."

Ocean waves crashed against the sand, and I breathed in the salty air. No rescue boat had come. No rescue plane flew over us. Nothing was coming.

Our third day here, and nothing was coming. I could see everyone carefully trying to think of something else. I couldn't blame them. Once they knew nothing was coming, they'll loose every shred of hope. After that, who knows what will happen?

Sighing, I unwrapped the cloth around my hand to look at my wound, and I began to realize how gross it was becoming. The yellowness thrived in it and made it swell. It wasn't big yet, but it wouldn't take long to grow.

I glanced at Jack's tent, noticing he had gone off somewhere. While trying to make myself seem invisible, I went inside the tent and acquired a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Because I worried Jack would come in any minute, I didn't bother looking for any cotton to pour it on and simply dripped some on my wound.

"What're you doing?"

Turning around, I saw Jack's figure standing by the doorway of the tent. As calmly as I could, I screwed the cap back in place, never taking my eyes off Jack.

He rubbed his eyes as if in exhaustion. "What're you doing in here?" he repeated.

"Rubbing alcohol," I croaked.

"You could've just asked me to look at your wound."

"I didn't want to…" I said, my voice cracking a bit.

"Well, I think I should have a look at that. Rubbing alcohol won't do anything for anything that's starting to swell."

I nodded in reply as he took my hand and rubbed some sort of medicine into it. "Why wouldn't you see me?"

Avoiding his question, I looked down, staring at my dirty shoes.

"Stop avoiding my question, Livien."

I gave him a questioning look.

"Yes, I know your name. Now answer my question. Why wouldn't you see me?"

"Because I'm avoiding you," I whispered.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his voiced touched with impatience.

"Because you're my brother."


	2. Chapter 2

Brotherly Love: Part II

"_Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his voiced touched with impatience._

_"Because you're my brother."_

Jack stared at me. Clearly, he thought I was crazy, but I couldn't blame him. I would have, too.

"What?" he finally asked.

I paused. I realized that now probably wasn't the best time to tell him; except, I already had.

"Just kidding!" I said, and made some weird gesture where my right hand was in a fist, smacking my left one. It only made the situation more awkward. He just stood there, staring at me.

"I'm going to go," I said.

The airplane landed smoothly, and I looked out my window for my first glimpse of Sydney, Australia: An all expense paid for trip, courtesy of my mom and her never-ending credit card. This would've been more enjoyable had the circumstances been better. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a worn piece of paper. It merely said that a Dr. Christian Shepherd was lying in a morgue unclaimed. This was the morgue I was going to before anyone could take the one chance I had at ever seeing my biological dad. In a way, I was kind of relieved he was dead. This way, there wouldn't be any awkward moments.

_Sighing, I placed the piece of paper back in my pocket and stood up, reaching for my duffel bag in the overhead storage. I took another glance outside the window before I made my way off the plane._

The seawater hadn't done it justice, I thought, staring at a packet of papers. It was now a packet of yellowing paper with smudged ink in random places. I tried to read it as I had many times before, but I didn't feel the need to read about him again.

Jack came out of his tent and looked at me, probably debating whether or not he should talk to me, but he never got the chance. Kate found him and whisked him away somewhere. I looked at my papers again and put them away.

_Everything felt cold and still as I walked in. The tile floor mocked my footsteps as I walked toward the front desk._

_"Hi," I whispered._

_A lady looked up and seemed surprised to see me. "May I help you?" she asked in a quite a loud voice, which made me jump. "No need to be quiet, dear. The dead can't hear us."_

_I nodded, slightly taken aback._

_"Well?" she asked._

_"Oh. Um. I'm here for a Dr. Christian Shepherd," I said meekly._

_"Dr. Christian Shepherd…" She muttered to herself while looking through her files. "Are you related to him?" she asked once she found what she was searching for._

_"Yes," I replied solemnly._

_"May I see some ID, please?"_

_"Yeah," I replied, reaching into my black purse and slid the card across the counter._

_She took a moment to look at it before saying, "You two don't have the same last name."_

_"My parents divorced, and I took my new father's last name," I said, which was partially true._

_"Okay," she said and pointed at the direction the room was in. _

I looked down the long, empty hallway and gulped. It was a long way down.

"I wish he would just die already," said the blonde. Well, Shannon, actually.

I turned around to see who she was speaking to, which was Boone, a tall guy with brown hair that nearly drowned a while ago.

"Real humane, Shan," he replied.

Another shriek sounded from Jack's area, and I flinched. I don't think I was the only one either.

When another scream came, I grabbed my duffel bag and walked the opposite direction.

Ten yards down, I ran into Sayid. He looked at my duffel, and then at me. "Where are you going? He asked.

"Somewhere where I can't hear him screaming," I replied.

And, right on cue, the dying man screamed again.

"Going out there may not be such a good idea."

"I'm not going too far away," I said… Why was I explaining myself to him?

"We don't know what's out there," he continued.

I froze for a moment as scenes from a few nights before played in my head. There was something lurking in the jungle that was tall enough to push back the top of the trees… And something creaked as if it were metal. But, we didn't see it. It could be invisible for all we knew.

"I'll be fine," I said, and I knew that probably sounded like I wasn't sure that I would be. I'm starting to realize why I never made the school play in ninth grade…

I turned around and walked a few steps before he said, "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," I said, spinning around to look him in the eye.

"You're not safe alone."

Suddenly, a thought dawned on me. I'm eighteen and female. He's at least twice my age and male. I gave him a suspicious look and began walking back to camp.

He seemed a bit confused but happy he had gotten his way.

I planned to sit at the edge of camp and try to leave again if the screams got any worse, but they never got the chance to as a gunshot sounded through the air. Immediately, everyone rushed over to Jack's tent to see what happened. I was the only one that didn't. I didn't need confirmation that the guy shot himself.

A tall man in a dark suit escorted me to see my new dead father. Apparently, this was regulation.

_As we came to the door, the man took out a key, unlocked it, and opened it for me._

_I hesitated. Once I go in, I can't turn back. Everything about my dad not being my real dad would be true. This man lying inside this room would really be my biological father. It'd be like admitting the truth._

_"Are you going in?" he asked._

_"It's just a little hard," I croaked._

_Once I put my right foot inside, a shiver went up my spine, and I began rubbing my arms. Then, I took a deep breath, and fully walked inside._

_Unzipping the bag-like thing made a horrible sound that echoed throughout the room, and my stomach burned. That guy had to watch my awkward situation, even though he had no idea just how awkward it was._

_I stopped unzipping when it reached his chest, and finally, spared a glance at his face and quickly looked away while taking a few deep breaths._

_After a few minutes, I composed myself and looked at his face again._

_He was old compared to my mom, which wasn't surprising since she was young when she had me. He had a pale, bloated face, which may be the fault of his death. Truth be told, he wasn't a bad-looking old man._

_Smiling sadly, I zipped him back up._

_"Ready to go?" asked the guy in the dark suit._

_I nodded in reply and slowly walked out the door. As I came towards the end of the hallway leading to the front office, a man quickly rushed from behind the corner and bumped into me. He turned around to say sorry while he ran down the hall into the room I had just left. I stared in disbelief._

_Once again, I reached into my purse and took out the packet of information regarding my biological father. I flipped a few pages until I found what I was looking for._

_Quickly, I went to the front desk. "That man that just ran down there… Is he Jack Shepherd?"_

_"Yes, dear."_

_My head started spinning, so I found a chair and sat on it. What's weird is that I knew I had a half brother the day I got this packet, but it never really registered in my brain until now._

_When I felt better, I left for my hotel room. Since Jack lived in LA, I assumed the funeral would be held there. So, I booked a one-way flight to LA for tomorrow morning._

"Hi."

"Hi," I repeated back. Then, he sat beside me. I didn't need to look at him to know it was Jack, but I did, anyway.

"I see your hand's getting better."

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly.

He paused, obviously trying to find something to say.

"You don't have to believe me," I told him.

He started twiddling his thumbs and looking back from me to the ocean until he got the nerve to say what he wanted all along. "What proof do you have that we're related?" he asked.

A few moments passed before I reached into my duffel bag and pulled out those infamous papers. Reluctantly, I gave them to him.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I WISH I was related to the creators of "Lost," especially J.J. Abrams, but I'm NOT. The plot is my own, Livien is mine, and everything else is theirs.

**Brotherly Love: Part III**

_He started twiddling his thumbs and looking back from me to the ocean until he got the nerve to say what he wanted all along. "What proof do you have that we're related?" he asked._

_A few moments passed before I reached into my duffel bag and pulled out those infamous papers. Reluctantly, I gave them to him._

"I have a sister," Jack said in shock, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah," I said softly.

It felt like forever that he was silent next to me. I never felt so unnerved.

"I-I need to think about this," he said at long last.

I started blinking really fast to keep my tears from falling, and I nodded. "If… you have any questions… you know where to find me," I said, my voice quivering from the sobs that would soon come.

Then Jack stood there, that look of "Why now?" on his face again. "Please don't cry," he pleaded.

"I'm… I'm not. Just—go."

He gave me the look of utmost confusion, much like someone standing at a buffet table trying to decide what to choose. He told me he couldn't deal with this right now, and when he's ready, he'll come find me.

I nodded in acknowledgment; not trusting myself to speak in fear choked sobs would come out.

When he left, all my emotions from the past week started rising in my chest as if my feelings were the fizz in a bottle of soda with the lid recently popped off. The reason I was here was my dad. If he hadn't died, my mom wouldn't have told me about my biological father; I wouldn't have gone to Australia; I wouldn't even know about Jack. I'd be happy. Lonely. But, I'm lonely here, too.

My hands reached my eyes to wipe away the tears that were beginning to emerge. Then, I couldn't contain myself as I buried my face in my hands, still trying to hold back those tears in case anyone was close enough to hear.

_"Dad?" I asked as I came up to his grave. I stood quietly for a moment, composing my thoughts. "I'm sorry I didn't come earlier." My voice shook slightly when I said this. "Mom told me that you… aren't my biological dad. And-And, I was wondering what would've happened if you knew? Would you have loved me still, or if I would've known you at all? Would I have lived with him? But… I'd like to meet him. My biological dad… I just wish you were here to give me you blessing." I took a deep breath, and released it while rapidly blinking my tears away. I didn't think my dad would like it if I cried at his grave._

_When I finished talking for the moment, I sat down on my knees and placed the flower I'd brought next to his name. This place had an eerie, foreboding quiet. It gave me the idea that I wouldn't get to be here again for a long time._

Leaves rustled behind me, and I kept my head buried in hopes that whoever it was would leave.

"Sometimes," said a voice, "I find it helps to write songs when you're upset." By that time, I had already snuck a peak at my speaker. It was Charlie. Bloody rock God Charlie. Why does he have to see me cry?

I took a shaky breath, in hopes it would cease my tears. He and his guitar sat beside me before he said, "Don't stop. You wont feel better until you let it out." At this point, I felt happy someone spoke to me for once that I felt obliged to do as they asked. Instead of covering my emotions, I let it all out.

Not long after, I found myself crying onto his shoulder with his right arm wrapped around me. He just sat there with me for countless minutes, not inquiring as to why I was crying. I returned the favor by not asking why he was consoling me. The silence was an appreciating one, but strange nonetheless.

As my crying began to stop, he asked if I'd ever written a song. My answer was no, although I've written many poems.

"Are you any good?" he asked.

"No… I don't think so. I've never shared them with anybody."

"Why did you start?"

"To relieve my anger," I said. "And my sadness," I admitted on second thought.

Charlie sat there, listening to my words, never taking his arm off my welcoming shoulders. "May I ask," he began, "What happened to make you want to write poems?"

Before I even thought about it, my reply was an instant "No." He nodded at this in full understanding. After all, there were many things from his past that he wouldn't like to share.

His arm left my shoulders to take hold of his guitar. "Can you play?" he asked as he strummed the chords. I smiled sadly and shook my head.

I would give anything to hear you talk again 

_To hear your footsteps as you came home from work_

_Knowing that you're safe_

_And feeling things would never change_

_My life had changed abruptly _

_The day you did not come home_

_Mom said you were sick_

_And I asked for how long_

_My pen stopped at that line, glaring at the words I wrote. If I had to write poetry, why couldn't the words at least sound good? _

_I crumpled the paper and threw it in the direction of my desk, not looking to see if it made it in. Afterwards, I laid my head on my desk. It would be so easy to take it out of my desk one last time just to hold it. I don't have to snort it. It'd ease my pain more easily by holding it than writing cruddy poems, anyway._

_I lifted my head off my desk and opened the third drawer down. My fingers fumbled through the mess until I reached what I was looking for. My heroin._

_It would be so easy just to snort it. No one would ever know… But, I would._

_Then, my former rehab instructor's voice rang through my head. "It only gives you a temporary high. It will never take away your pain. When that high feeling is over, your pain will hurt just as much as before, maybe even more. There are other ways to deal with your dad's illness."_

_My smile faded as I put the heroin back in its hiding place. There are other ways to deal with my dad's illness._

"Charlie?" I asked.

"Yes?" he said, fingers still dancing with his guitar strings.

"Why," I started… Maybe I shouldn't ask this question.

"Why," he repeated. "Why what?"

"Why are you here… with me?"

His smiled started to disappear, and a serious look formed in his eyes. It seemed like I struck a chord. A weakness. He took a huge gulp of air, not yet releasing it. His eyes met mine, letting me know he would be quite serious with his answer, even if I wouldn't understand it. "You look like someone I know back home," he said, his voice a little solemn. "I feel connected to you that way."

"Who do I look like?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Maybe I'll tell you some other time."

An awkward silence followed. Perhaps it wasn't all that weird, but I didn't know how else to label it.

My eyes watched as he stood up. "I'll talk to you later," he said while his hand rested on my shoulder momentarily. He left me to sit by myself, to ponder the thoughts that wanted to eat me alive.

_"I'm leaving," she said as she applied another layer of heavy makeup. _

_"What?" I asked incredulously._

_"You heard me. I'm leaving."_

_"Leaving where?"_

_"Oh, don't act like that. I'm just going on a vacation. I'll be back."_

_"Where are you going?" I said slowly to make sure she heard every single word._

_"To the Bahamas."_

_"Why?"_

_"It'd be nice to lye on one of their beaches this time of year," she said looking out the window. "Look how horrible it is out there."_

_I understood what she meant. The weather wasn't acting nice lately, but that's the usual winter storms. "You can't leave me alone here!" I said as my voice started to rise._

_"You're not alone. You have your siblings. You have your dad."_

_"You sent Christian and Lilly to boarding school when dad got sick, remember!" I screamed. "And dad's lying sick in a hospital bed right now. Are you really just going to leave us here!"_

_"Don't act so selfish, Liv. I need to get away from all this. Would you like to go to Paris. You've always loved it there this time of year when it's about to snow."_

_"Mom!"_

_"What?" _

_"I'm only sixteen! I can't go alone!"_

_"Oh, that's right. I guess you'll just have to stay home."_

_I gave her a look of disbelief as I stormed out._

_"Don't worry, honey! The maids will still be here!"_

_"What else is knew?" I muttered to myself halfway down hall._

Night was overriding the sunny sky as I made my way back toward camp. I saw Charlie sitting alone by a fire, with his guitar to the left, abandoned for the evening. Cautiously, my feet led me to his side; and I found myself sitting next to him. I felt my heart go hollow when he didn't acknowledge my presence.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For what?" he replied.

"For asking why you were consoling me earlier. That was rude."

"No, it's understandable. I didn't speak to you before, and then, suddenly, I cared about how you feel. It was only natural for you to wonder why."

"I'm glad you stopped snorting heroin, Charlie," I said quietly.

I could feel his eyes jump to me, wondering how I knew his secret. "How'd you know?" he asked with an edge in his voice.

"I looked the way you did when I stopped… And, I saw you use it once," I admitted. "But, I didn't tell anyone."

He nodded. "I guess it was inevitable that someone would catch me at one point." He paused before asking, "How long have you been clean?"

"About a year now," I said. He gave me a warm smile that came with a one armed hug.

"I'm surprised you trust me enough to tell me," he said, his husky voice sending my heart beating just a little bit faster. I could tell from these words that he was beginning to trust me a bit. Just a bit. Not for saying I knew he snorted, but by confessing that I used to be an addict of heroin, as well. I suppose it gave him hope that he, too, can quit. It always helps to know someone that has had the same dilemma as you and survived.

"I thought it would help," I replied, returning his smile.

We sat together, staring at the flames from the warm fire. No one heard the exchange of our words since there were none. The silence was a comfortable for some reason, even with our sudden, new friendship.

When a cough sounded behind me, we both turned around. It was Jack.

A/N: Hey, I hoped you liked my latest addition to this story. I hoped I characterized them well enough, but I'm not sure if I got it right, but I tried, in my defense. 

Hey look, the review button is right there… How convenient. :wink:


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter isn't from Livien's point of view because I couldn't think of how to explain Charlie's background all the way without waiting too long and getting bored of waiting or forgetting my idea.

Charlie's POV

He had watched her since the moment he saw her. The moment he felt his heart squeeze; the time after he had almost died. He knew he'd have to get to know her. He knew it was his fate to fall upon this ruddy island to know her, even if it wouldn't help his grief.

Of course, he knew she was a too young, but heck, other than that, she was her spitting image! Sammy's image… At the moment, he didn't even care what her name was, he just needed to find the right time to talk to her, and before some sort of rescue team arrived. He wondered if she would act like Sammy, too. If she does, he'd offer her a place to live near him back home, all expenses paid, of course.

Charlie looked back as something dropped behind him… An engine! The second time he's almost been killed in the last day! He stared at the engine for a minute before walking off; it didn't really faze him for some reason.

_The table was small and circular, and Charlie had placed a small book upon it. He took a pen out of his British style jacket and began writing a song that called to him. As the pen flowed freely on his paper, his leg started to bounce up and down, becoming more and more excited at the prospect of another song. It's amazing how humans resemble dogs in this manner. Humans twitch their legs; dogs' tails twitch; which is precisely what Charlie was doing as he wrote._

_A chair scratched the floor at a table across him. This sound caught his attention, and he looked up to see a lovely girl of twenty-three with long dark hair, a white complexion, and sparkling brown eyes. He had never considered brown eyes particularly interesting until this point. _

_Her eyes stopped at his, and she smiled at him. He smiled back. _

_Throughout his time in this café, he kept exchanging glances with her when he occasionally looked up from his journal and when she took the time to stop reading her novel, until he saw that she was leaving. He didn't like the idea of leaving without knowing her name, so he stood up and went after her._

_"Wait!" he called as he left the café. The lady turned around. When she realized it was the guy from the coffee place, she stopped and waited. "Hi," said Charlie when he reached her seconds later._

_"Hi," she replied._

_"What's your name?"_

_"Samantha, but you can call me Sammy."_

_"Pleasure to meet you, Sammy," he said, sticking his right hand out to shake. "I'm Charlie."_

_She smiled and shook his hand. _

Charlie found himself sitting at a log, his thoughts continuously on the thought of heroin. Just an hour earlier, he thought he could quit now he was on this island, but knowing it was in his pocket didn't make it a simple task.

He started looking around. Once realizing no one bothered to watch him, he made his way toward a ring of trees far enough from the beach, but not quite far. He took his little bag of heroin out of the pocket of his black sweatshirt, holding it like Frodo would hold his powerful ring in Lord of the Rings. He untied the bag and took some of the brown powder with his fingers, and licked the bits off his fingers. Not quite satisfied, he took a bit more on his fingers and brought it close to his nose, sniffing it deeply. Feeling relieved, he tied the bag up again, and carefully concealed it in his pockets once more.

Days later, Charlie had given up his drugs due to the fact his guitar found its way back to him. Strumming his guitar helped with his withdrawal symptoms, and that was a bliss, but it didn't help today. Today, he needed something else to do. He didn't want to play his bloody guitar.

His mind told him to go for a walk, and he readily obeyed. Muffled sobs met his ears only a few steps later, and he went to check it out. When he reached the other side of the beach, he saw her crying. The girl that looked like Sammy.

_Light reflected off the ring, making it sparkle beautifully. The stone inside was blue sapphire, like the night sky Sammy loved so much. It was cut square, and laid on a white gold band. Although the ring was simple, it held much elegance and beauty. Charlie had to forget about buying anything new for a while in order to buy this, but it didn't matter as long as she loved it and said yes to his proposal. _

_However, he saddened a little when he realized he wouldn't have this problem if Driveshaft would finally have their big break. He sighed and pushed that thought out of his mind. Tonight was the night. No time for thoughts like this._

_He finally reached her apartment building, and walked up the stairs leading to her flat. He knocked and waited for an answer. Moments passed, and he knocked again. Still no answer. He became confused because it wasn't like her to just ditch him when they had a planned date. A sigh reached his lips as he sat down next to her door, hoping she'd come soon._

"Charlie?" Livien asked. She had only told him her name moments before… Charlie thought it was a lovely name, even if it didn't really suit her.

"Yes?" he said, fingers dancing with the guitar strings.

"Why," she started.

"Why," he repeated. "Why what?"

"Why are you here… with me?"

He felt his smile start to fade, and a serious look formed in his eyes. He swallowed a huge amount of air, waiting a moment before releasing it. His eyes met hers in a way of letting her know his answer would be serious, and that perhaps she wouldn't understand it. "You look like someone I know back home," he said, his voice a little solemn. "I feel connected to you that way."

"Who do I look like?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Maybe I'll tell you some other time." He felt like now would be the right time to leave, and stood up, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I'll talk to you later," he said softly.

_Charlie sat in the hospital room, tightly holding her hand. Although, he knew she had left consciousness a long time ago, he felt as if he needed to be strong for her. He held back all the salty tears from his eyes. He didn't want her to think she was going to die... He didn't want to think she was going to die._

_"Well, that's not true," he said to himself. "There's a chance she'll live… Just a small chance." He bit his lip and rested his head at the edge of the mattress by her hand. "Don't cry," he whispered to himself._

_A sound from the machine caught his attention. It made a steady long beat. Charlie immediately jumped out of his chair and yelled for a nurse. Surely, a long beat means something bad._

_Not long after, a group of doctors came, and Charlie stood in the back of the room watching as they tried to revive her. They tried about three times, and sadly announced her death on August 15th, 2002, twenty-four minutes and forty-two seconds past eleven._

_Charlie closed his eyes. He felt the area around his heart tighten, and the tears trying to make their way out. But, no, he wouldn't let them out. Not now. He found himself walking quickly out the hospital. When he finally made it back to his flat, he broke down in tears._

_Sammy was gone._

Everyone was still sleeping when Charlie woke up. He felt the need to be alone, and walked farther down the beach. He looked back and saw Livien still asleep. Of course, he still felt sad about not finding Sammy's picture, but as long as Livien didn't mind him around, he could live without it for a bit longer.

A/N: I hoped I portrayed the drug usage thing okay because I don't cough use drugs cough

**And… I'd just like you all to wonder what exactly happened to Sammy… And… I hope this chapter was different from the rest of mine in a good way. I'd love feedback.**

**Oh look… The REVIEW button is right there.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I married JJ Abrams brilliant mind. Not. insert usual disclaimer stuff here**

**A/N: I got bored of this story for awhile, so I decided to spice things up a bit (you'll see what I mean). I've completely disregarded the first season now because it's hard for me to follow it when I can't remember the order of the happenings too well. Anyway, tell me what you think!****

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**Chapter Five: Nightmares continued**

I pushed the leaves aside. Oh, God, there were so many, and they were just there, always in front of me, hard to push aside, like they were trying to keep me from being alone. I want to be alone, but they won't let me. Can't they see how desperately I need to get away from this camp, this horror, my nightmare?

Suddenly, the ground is at my face, and it makes a strangled sound come out of my throat, and I just cant hold back anymore. Tears stream down my face, all of them racing each bead that dripped down. I whisper at them to stop, but they wont. I've waited too long, and I need to release my built up frustration. My legs allow me to stand after a moment, and drunkenly, I stumble around the leaves. Once I found the little lake, my legs give out, and I cry more freely.

Why can't Jack accept me as his sister? It's not my fault. How can it be my fault? I have no control over these things. Can't he see how utterly alone I am? No one's ever been there for me. I confessed to Charlie, but only because I needed to talk to someone, and he was there. Charlie was the only person I could talk to. I just need someone, and Jack just… He can't bloody see.

The air hangs stiffly around me, as it usually is at night. My mind's screaming for rain to cover my falling tears, to erase the evidence. It's disgusting how I can always hide my feelings, but then they come back, and I can't hide anymore once they do.

Some leaves rustle to the left, and my head snaps in that direction. "Who's there?" I croak. My throat's dry from all my crying.

No one answers.

"Hello?" I ask, taking hold of a sharp stone beside me. I don't think whoever's behind the trees is a friend. Definitely a foe.

"Hello," someone says from behind.

Slowly, I turn to find a man with a dirty, white beard. His stomach is a bit round, despite the lack of food. However, I couldn't recognize him from camp.

"Who are you?"

"I'm here to help."

What does he mean by that?

"I don't want your help."

"I'm afraid you have no choice. You need to be taken away from the bad people."

"What bad people?" I ask,

"Them," he says as a sharp pain reaches the back of my head, and I fall into darkness.

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My heavy eyelids force themselves open. 

They're met with darkness.

Where… Where am I?

I let my hands roam the area.

Stone.

Everywhere.

Everywhere is stone.

I start breathing heavily. Where am I? All I can see is the dark. All I can feel is the stone.

What did that man do to me?

My screams begin to engulf me. The place I'm in echoes this sound, and my screams are the only company I have. There's no doubt that whoever he is, he's listening. I don't know how, but he is.

A shiver travels up my spine.

Footsteps meet my ears.

Something falls to my left, and someone's walking away.

"WAIT! COME BACK!" I scream, as I get up and try to run after whoever it was. That's when I find out that my right ankle is chained to the wall.

Miserably, I sink down back to the ground, and felt for whatever fell down here. I found the object, and my hands felt around it.

A roughly, carved bowl.

My hands dipped inside and found something damp. It could be water… Or it could not be water. I'm not sure if I should trust them.

Then, of course, I notice my dry throat.

I hate my life.

Lifting the bowl to my nose, I sniff the substance.

Well, it smells like water. Water has no distinct smell, though.

Should I risk it?

I place the bowl on the ground next to me. I'm not that desperate yet. My back finds the "wall," and I rest against it. After letting my eyes close, I truly begin to notice my parched throat, and I try to ignore it.

Then, I start to wheeze.

I'm… I'm having an asthma attack? No, it hasn't been triggered since I finished the SATs. It can't come back.

Steadily, my breathing becomes harder.

Cough.

It has to be all the stress lately.

Wheeze.

My hands find my throat and tries to scratch that itchy feeling away, also hoping for the wheezing to cease.

"Drink the water."

I shake my head in response. I can recognize his voice, that man from yesterday. If he says it's ok to drink, then I don't think I want to drink it.

"We don't have inhalers here."

I don't reply.

"We just want to help."

"If… (wheeze) you want… (cough) to help… (wheeze) then… (wheeze) bring me back (cough)… to them (cough)."

"I can't do that. Drink the water, or I'll force it down your throat."

Why didn't I expect him to threaten me? Of course, he would. How stupid of me.

Reluctantly, my hands take hold of the bowl, and bring it to my lips. The fresh, cool taste of water meets my lips, and makes its way down my throat. It tickles the dry areas, and I nearly cough it up.

"Slow down," he says.

I roll my eyes in response. A dummy could've figured out I needed to slow down.

Again, I bring the bowl to my lips and take another sip. This time, it went down more easily. However, I'm still wheezing, but I'm beginning to feel a bit better.

"A lot of stress?"

"Why do you want to know?" I ask, my voice hinting at the wheezing that I'm trying not to do. Trying so hard not to do…

"We've been watching you."

That sounds awful. How long have they been watching me? When do they watch me? Do they know my name, too?

"I'll leave you alone now." I can just see him turning.

"WAIT!"

There's a slight pause, and I realize he's waiting for me to speak.

"Who are you? How many people are in your group?"

"Answers are for another time. You need to rest."

And, that was the end of that.

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Three days have passed. There have been shadows of people bringing me food and water, but I never actually get to see them. I can't chase after them since I'm chained. I feel like I've been here forever. All I do, all day long, is stare into the darkness, thinking about my life, my mistakes, mainly. People I didn't say good-bye to, and feeling guilty about it because they think I'm dead. My last fight with my mom, who thinks I hate her. I mean, she's my mom, and she's made mistakes, but I don't really hate her. I just don't really like her. I do love her, though, because in her really weird ways, I know she loves me, and I regret telling her how much I "hate" her before I left for Australia. Now she thinks I'm lost in sea, and has no body to bury. She must be as miserable as I am, which means she's probably at home, burying her face in countless of expensive chocolates with no one but maids to keep her company. 

"We've decided to let you out."

I jump slightly. I hadn't noticed anyone was there.

"Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"You're too weak to run away now. While you're regaining your strength, you'll see we're not bad people. You'll want to stay."

Whoever it was (it wasn't the man from the first night), walked over to the chain and unlocked the lock.

I was free, but I knew they could catch me if I do anything now. The opportune moment is waiting for me, and I'm eagerly looking for it. I'm just hoping it won't take too long to find me. But, like he said, I need my strength back. It's only been three days, so it shouldn't take too long, right?

Light appears in the distance, and I figure this is my way outside. Sluggishly, I begin walking towards it; my legs feel like jelly after so little movement over the last three days.

Gladly, I welcome the rush of fresh air as I step outside. Three days without fresh air, and you really miss it. It's like stepping off an airplane after a ten-hour flight.

I look around the trees, the cave I was in, and the makeshift huts. They seemed like the kind you can destroy quickly if you're in a hurry to move out.

Will I have to move around with them? Oh hell, I hope not. Not now. Not when my legs feel like this. Not when so many pains are running inside my mind, hoping to take control. Hoping to make me cry in front of them.

Well, I won't cry in front of them, and no one can make me. These people are strangers, and unclean strangers at that. They're just starting to come out of their huts. Most of the men have scraggly beards and dirt beneath their nails. Women have tangled hair as if they neglected to brush it; their armpits are filled with hair, obviously not shaving there considering there didn't seem to be a point, and their legs weren't much better. I somehow managed not to shudder, which is good because I have no doubt they could kill me before I even knew what happened, and I didn't want to test my theory. No way will I test my theory, at least, not yet. But, I know I'll have to run away. If they want me this badly, they'll come after me. Guaranteed.

"This is your hut," he says, pointing to a hut across from that cave. "You're free to walk around, but walk too far, and we'll come after you."

I nodded, and turned away. Everyone is staring at me. And then, I noticed the kids. Small, ugly little things. It's horrible they have to grow up here.

After one last look at the lot of them, I walked towards the jungle in hopes to be alone for awhile, which is ironic because I've been alone for the last few days. Anyone who wants to be alone with them are crazy, though.

I met a small stream on my walk, and I sat next to it. Having something other than the dark was nice, but the light was too bright after being the dark so long. I found that I had to blink profusely after a couple of minutes.

Now… Where's the ocean? And how far were they willing to let me wander before dragging me back? Should I test their patience?

Yes, I should. I wouldn't get anywhere if I didn't.

My eyes jumped from tree to tree, trying to make sure they weren't following me. I let my feet follow the stream because I hope it will lead to the ocean. Don't get me wrong, I'm not running away yet. That's just stupid.

When I could just hear the sound of waves crashing the beach, something grabbed me from behind and shoved me against a tree.

He pushed hard against my body, making sure I couldn't get away, and made it difficult to struggle against him. His eyes glared into mine. They were blue and clear. His dark hair contrasted his pale skin, but I couldn't figure out why his skin was pale when he lives outside.

"What are you doing?" he whispered fiercely, breathing hot breath on my face. I turn my face away from him, but his dirt-laden hand grabs it and holds it so I have to look at him. And when I notice he's pretty handsome despite the dirt, I inwardly scold myself. Now's not the time for romance, and he's not the kind of person I should get romantic with. Ever.

"You didn't answer my question," he said with the same ferocity.

Involuntarily, I shuddered, and he thrust his hips suggestively as he realized how uncomfortable I was.

"Answer me."

"I… was just trying to find the ocean."

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" he asked as he went off me. He held tightly onto my arm and started pulling me in the direction of the ocean.

"What are you doing?" I ask him nervously.

"You want the ocean, I'll take you to the ocean."

As we reached the beach, he shoved me into the water. "There's your damned ocean."

Salt water goes up my nose as I sit up, and I cough trying to get it out. When I stand up, the water tries to weigh me down. Before I'm completely out, he comes up to me again and presses his lips hard against mine; even before I could register what happened, it was over. "We better get back before they realize how far you've wandered," he said, still sounding angry. I'm left feeling confused as he takes hold of my arm again and drags me back.

To be continued…

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**To make sure no one's confused, Liv has been taken by The Others. Now, I haven't read any theories about them, so sorry if that bugs anyone. Is anyone miffed by my change of style? Over all, what do you guys think? **

**Don't forget to…**

**Review!**

**And… Perhaps I'll name an Other after the 7th reviewer on this chapter. If there's no 7th reviewer, I'm simply going to write more, but never put it on this site. Yes, I'm evil. Besides, is seven so much to ask for?**


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